


Broken Wings- a Superwholock fic

by Just_your_FANGIRL_34



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural, Superwholock - Fandom
Genre: Some angst, but it wouldn't be spn if there wasn't, slash if you squint hard enough
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-20 06:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_your_FANGIRL_34/pseuds/Just_your_FANGIRL_34
Summary: Sam and Dean hunt the Supernatural. They've seen a lot, but there's always been one thing they know for certain. Aliens do NOT exist. So how do they cope when one turns up in a magic blue box? Who are the ex-army medic and the stuck-up detective? And how do they rid themselves of a whole new kind of angel?





	1. the Hunt

BANG!

A gunshot echoed through the warehouse as the silver bullet sank into the werewolf's heart. It howled, pain thick in the monster's shriek. Dean rolled out of the way of the falling body, casting a glance around the room, the only illumination being the moonlight shining through the cracks in the wooden walls. Another man lunged at him, this one wearing a ski mask and definitely not a werewolf. He raised his gun and aimed.

Click.

The magazine shone in the light a few feet away, the bullets gleaming silver. Dean cursed, hands scrabbling behind him as he searched for a weapon, or a distraction at least. Smooth metal brushed against his fingertips.

"You're a fool, Dean Winchester. War is coming, and there's nothing you can do," the wolfman hissed. It sprung forwards, and Dean swung the metal pole round to crack against its head sickeningly. It dropped to the floor limply. A strangled cry stole Dean's attention.

Sam was pinned to the floor, a werewolf's hands wrapped around his throat, eyes rolling back in his head. He was desperately trying to pull the hands away but his movements were becoming sluggish as he was deprived of air. His hands stopped scrabbling and fell to the floor.

"Sam!" Dean, screamed. He sprinted towards his magazine, sliding along the floor and scooping it up. He clicked it in, raised his gun and shot the werewolf in the head. It collapsed next to Sam, dark red pooling beneath it. Dean sprinted over and dropped into a crouch, shaking his brother by the shoulder. "Sam!" he hissed. "Sam! Wake up!" Dean's heart constricted as his brother remained motionless. "Sammy!" Sam's eyes fluttered, and he groaned. A shaky sigh of relief escaped Dean's lips as Sam's eyes focused lazily on his.

He helped Sam up, slapping him on the back and checking him over. There was a gash on his forehead and along his shoulder. Dean clapped a hand on the same shoulder, Sam gasping and glaring at his brother.

"Jerk," he mumbled.

"Bitch," Dean grinned, sticking his tongue out at him. Sam rolled his eyes and kicked the body with the ski mask.

"Who do you reckon this is, then?" he asked, glancing at his older brother.

"I don't know. My x-ray vision doesn't seem to work with balaclavas," Dean sassed, earning a glare from Sam.

"Funny," he replied sarcastically. "I'm laughing so hard." Dean held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Jeez... someone's moody! Is it your time of the month?" he asked, pouting with fake sympathy.

"Shut up," Sam snapped, leaning down and pulling off the mask. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "The coroner? That's unexpected."

"Kinda makes sense though," Dean added. Sam nodded in agreement and stood.

"He did have all those baby teeth."

"And that policewoman seemed a bit obsessed with him."

"That's what you get when you pretend to be Jesus. It's just a shame Maria had to skip town. I could've got on that." Dean added. Sam looked disgusted. Dean winked, and glanced over at one of the bodies, frowning.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just something the coroner said."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing, it doesn't matter. Come on," he said. "Let's go. They'll be found soon, and we want to be far away when that happens." Dean pulled his car keys out his pocket as they slid into the Impala.

"Where to?" he asked, turning the ignition and smiling faintly as his baby rumbled to life.

"Let's just get back to the bunker," Sam answered, yawning and rubbing his head. Dean pulled out of the parking lot, and headed down the road.


	2. an Unexpected Visitor

Dean pulled into the bunker and the two brothers climbed out of the car, Dean locking the Impala before they headed into the living area.

"I'm telling you! Darth Vader could have beaten the Emperor easily!" Dean protested.

"Then how come he died doing it?" Sam questioned.

"To boost the ratings! Duh!" Dean answered, rolling his eyes. Sam scoffed.

"That's utter crap and you know it!" Sam retorted. "You just can't face the fact that the Emperor is harder than-" he cut off as a muffled thump echoed through the living area. The hunters drew their guns, creeping soundlessly towards the figure in the chair.

"Yaaaaa!" Dean tackled the man with a war cry, both of them falling to the ground. The man yelped in surprise, going still as Dean straddled him and held an angel blade to his throat.

"What are you doing?" the man yelled. Dean blinked.

"Cas?" his eyes widened and he got up off the angel, offering a hand up. Cas took it, glaring at Dean as he straightened his trench coat.

"Why did you assault me?" Cas asked.

"Sorry, man," Dean sheathed his blade. "Didn't expect it to be you."

"Who else would it be?" Cas looked puzzled. Dean frowned for a moment.

"Huh... Good point. Why are you here?" Dean opened the fridge, handing a beer to Sam and Cas before closing the fridge and opening his own.

"I have a lead on some demons who are helping Asmodeous. I need your help capturing them. We can get information from them," the angel explained. Sam nodded.

"Come sit down. We can make a plan," the younger Winchester sat at the large oval table, Cas following suit. Dean remained standing, scrutinising his friend.

Cas seemed fine, but he had bags under his eyes and kept yawning. That was strange, since angels didn't get tired. He was thin too, his trench coat hanging off him. Dean furrowed his brow. Something here was definitely off.

"-even listening to me?" Dean tuned in as Sam finished his sentence, two pairs of eyes trained on him.

"Yeah..." Dean swigged from his bottle. Sam turned back to Cas.

"You okay? You seem kinda... deflated," he asked the shorter man.

"I'm fine, thank you Sam," the Seraph answered, but his yawn contradicted his words. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Sure... look, why don't you get some sleep? We have plenty of rooms. Take one of the ones down the hall; it'll be near ours then." Sam pointed. Cas nodded sleepily.

"I suppose a few hours won't hurt..." he got up and headed down the hall, entering one of the rooms and closing the door behind him. Sam turned to Dean.

"What the hell's with that?" he asked his brother. Dean shrugged.

"How should I know?"

"Something seems off..." Sam glanced at Cas's closed door.

"Gee, thanks! I hadn't noticed!" Dean rolled his eyes.

"No need to be sarcastic, Dean," his brother scolded him.

"Whatever. I'm going to bed," Dean put his beer down, stretching, and turned to leave.

"What about Cas?" Sam stood up.

"What about him?" Dean carried on walking.

"Well, aren't we gonna find out what's wrong?" Sam jogged to catch up with his older brother.

"You know, why don't we just ask him?" Dean answered.

"Yeah, 'cause that's always ended so well in the past!" Sam muttered.

"No need to be sarcastic, Sam," Dean mimicked his brother's earlier statement.

"Shut up and go to bed," Sam snapped.

"Was planning to anyway," Dean called over his shoulder, entering his room and shutting the door behind him. He flopped onto his bed, sighing, and closed his eyes. He fell asleep instantly.


	3. the Case

It was probably the sunlight filtering through his skylight that woke Sam up. Not the angel standing at the foot of his bed, watching him as he slept. But it was the Seraph that caused him to instinctively grab the knife from his bedside table and launch it at his friend's head. Sam was just lucky Cas had lightning reflexes.

He caught it mid air, the tip of the blade millimetres from his face. He looked at it curiously before setting it down on the dresser next to him. Sam winced.

"Sorry, Cas!" he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What's up?" Cas looked confused.

"Many things are up", he pondered. "The sky, for instance."

"That's not what I- it's a saying, Cas."

"Oh," Cas looked slightly embarrassed. "I see."

"You know what, Cas, it doesn't matter. What do you want?" Sam sighed as he pulled the covers off him. Swinging his legs out of bed, he stood, towering over the angel.

"Dean has a case," answered simply, turning towards the door to leave. Sam followed, and they headed into the living area. Dean was sat at a table, flicking through a book, a fork in one hand. An empty plate was placed on the table next to him, a few crumbs and a smear of cream the only indication that there had been a piece of pie on it. He looked up as Sam came in.

"Cas got me pie," he grinned. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"That's... nice," he gestured at the book. "What's the case?" Dean slid a newspaper across the table.

"A woman was murdered in her home, and the police have no idea how. Doors and windows were locked from the inside. The only evidence they found was sulfur," he summarised. Sam looked up from the article.

"Demons?" he suggested.

"That's what I thought," he agreed. "Then I read the eyewitness accounts. Apparently, a blue box appeared out of nowhere just before the murder, and disappeared again just after."

"A blue box?" Sam repeated. "What kind of box?"

"Apparently it was some kind of old fashioned, British police call box," Dean answered. "I was thinking that maybe it was the British Men of Letters. I mean, they are psychos. Either way, it sounds like a case." Sam nodded.

"What are we waiting for?"

A/N: Okay, so originally this was an spn fanfic, hence why there hasn't been any mention of the others yet. Yet. They'll be appearing in the next chapter or so. Please vote, leave comments etc. I just hope you enjoy the story 💖💖💖


	4. Roofied

"Agents Dylan and Marley," Dean stated, flashing his badge. The officer raised an eyebrow.

"FBI? Haven't you got anything better to do?" she waved them in.

"Apparently not," Sam answered. The woman laughed.

Dean frowned. That wasn't even funny! He thought miserably. Sam always gets the good ones.

The crime scene was a mess- blood drenched the walls and floor, furniture was thrown across the room, and the body was ripped to pieces. Dean whistled.

"Hulk, smash!" he laughed. Sam frowned.

"What the hell is a 'Hulk'?" he muttered. Dean felt crushed. Not knowing who Hawkeye was, Dean could understand, since he was just a modern day Legolas. But the Hulk? Seriously?

"It's time, little brother, that you had a moviecation!" he answered solemnly. Sam stared at him.

"What the hell is a- actually, you know what? I don't want to know!" he turned back to the carnage before them, then crouched down. Yellow powder was scattered across the room. Sam sniffed it. "Sulfur," he confirmed, sneezing.

Dean inspected the room. He was surprised at the amount of blood there was. Crimson handprints were imprinted on the window. Dean glanced at them, then looked through the dirty window to see a blue smudge. A square blue smudge...

Dean sprinted out the house, Sam standing and following him without question. They rounded the corner, coming face to face with a vintage police box.

"Gotcha!" Dean grinned, walking towards it and pulling out his gun. Sam did the same and they crept towards the doors, crouching down in front of them. Dean silently counted down with his fingers, and they exploded into the box, careful not to smack into the wall opposite. Except, there was no wall opposite.

They gaped at the room before them. It was circular, with a glowing tube raised above a complicated console.

"Sam... I think we were roofied," Dean muttered. Sam shook his head.

"Not possible. We haven't eaten yet, or drank," he replied dazedly.

"So you're saying this is real?" Dean hissed back. Just then they heard footsteps, and a man rounded the console. He stopped when he saw the Winchesters.

"I hate guns," the man muttered. He was wearing a brown tweed suit and a bowtie, a red fez perched precariously on his head. He raised his voice cheerfully, a British accent colouring his words. "Hello! It's nice to meet you! I'm surprised you noticed the TARDIS! You must be very observant fellows!"

"What is this place? Who are you?" Dean demanded. The bowtie man smiled.

"I'm the Doctor."

 

A/N: Heya! What do you think? Please tell me- I'd love to hear from you! I brought in other character, as promised. I realise I haven't ACTUALLY got any readers yet, but I hope that'll change. Well, if you're reading this, it obviously will. Love you guys 💗💗💗


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